Those Everdeen Women
by Nicoley117-TheBlueMartini
Summary: "Dad...I wish you were here," I quietly state aloud with my voice almost cracking. I stare down at my paintbrush set again.  "You're the only one who could understand this...these feelings I have for Katniss..."


**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Hunger Games_ series.**

**A/N: **This oneshot takes place right after Peeta comes back to District 12 at the end of _Mockingjay. _I'm a new HG fan and have only read all the books once so far, so I'm sorry if I make any mistakes in regards to the series! Anyways, hope you enjoy it! Reviews are greatly appreciated.

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><p>That was the first time I had seen her in months.<p>

And she couldn't stand to be around me for more than two minutes. When I told her that I thought that we could plant some evening primroses, she quickly ran back into her house and locked the door.

Could she not bare being around me? Could she not stand the sight of me?

I let out a frustrated sigh, but decide to continue with my project of planting these primroses. I was hoping we could plant them _together, _but after the way she ran off, she clearly doesn't want to spend any time with me.

Within fifteen minutes, all the primroses I had in the wheelbarrow were planted along the side of her house. It definitely made the house look more…cheerful. And bright.

For a moment, I think that maybe I should let Katniss know that I've finished planting the flowers…and then I remember hearing the "click" of her locking the door, so I decide it'd be best for me to just return to my house.

Once I enter my house, I immediately go to the kitchen sink to wash off all the grime and dirt from my hands. After I dry them off, I lean against the counter and stare out the window above the sink.

I try to focus on all the greenery that I see, but images of Katniss keep appearing in my mind.

Seconds later, I feel my hands beginning to throb…just itching for the feeling of a paintbrush within them.

I run upstairs and enter the room that I've created as my painting space. Paintings of scenes from the Games, of people I've met, of my family, are plastered all over the walls.

My easel is already set up and ready to go. I just need to grab some paint and paintbrushes.

I go to the cabinet where I store my painting supplies and create a paint palette full of dark colors. Black, gray, brown…colors like that.

Then I go to pick out my paintbrushes. Most of them are simply set in an old can…but then I see the crimson case sitting next to it.

I pull the case from the cabinet and hold it in my hands for a few seconds, remembering how I was given this set of paintbrushes…

A gift. From my father…

It was the evening of my 11th Birthday. I was in my room, getting ready to go to bed, when my father had come in, and put the case in my hands.

"Happy Birthday, Peeta" he had whispered, and then added, "Don't tell your mother."

After he had left my room, I opened up the case and saw the paintbrushes of the finest quality. They must have cost my father a fortune.

My father was the only person in my family who knew about my passion for painting. I never told my brothers, because they would think it was weird and "girly" and would most likely make fun of me for it. And of course, my mother didn't know about it, because no doubt, she'd think it would be a fruitless way to spend my time.

But my father understood.

Sighing, I sit down on the stool in front of my easel. I take one of the paintbrushes and begin painting, letting my hand guide itself as if it had a mind of its own. I relax my body and let my brush strokes gently hit the paper.

Minutes later I realize that I've begun painting the eyes of Katniss Everdeen.

I sigh with frustration and wonder how she never fails to affect me. She's always there in my thoughts, in my dreams…and now she's even appearing through my brush strokes.

I stop moving my paintbrush and just stare intently at it.

Dad would understand this too.

Because he'd fallen in love with an Everdeen woman…just like me.

I sigh and close my eyes tightly, seeing images of my father and the rest of my family being engulfed in the flames of the District 12 bombings. My body then begins to shudder and my eyes instantly fly open.

"Dad…I wish you were here," I quietly state aloud with my voice almost cracking. I stare down at my paintbrush set again.

"You're the only one who could understand this…these feelings I have for Katniss…"

Somehow the sight of my paintbrush set makes me feel like my father is here with me, yet at the same time makes me miss all the conversations I had had with him when he was alive.

Sighing deeply, I continue speaking aloud. "I know you loved Mrs. Everdeen…probably until the day you…died. And I just…I just want to know…how did you do it? How were able to live with the fact that she married someone else? And then when he died and she lost herself and neglected her family…you still loved her…I could tell."

I remember that on the extremely rare occasions that my mother was away from the bakery, my father would try to go see Mrs. Everdeen and give her bits of bread, and make sure she was okay.

"I didn't have to come back to District 12…I could've chosen to go to any other district, but for some reason I chose the one where _she _lived," I said, as I shook my head with disbelief at my own actions.

"She's…she's hurt me so much in the past…and then, how she acted today…it seemed like she was trying to keep me shut out of her life..." I dropped the paintbrush that I had been holding in my hand. I didn't make any move to pick it up.

"And she looked like she hadn't been taking good care of herself…her hair was all matted. And she looked skinnier than when I last saw her…yet, somehow, I still thought she was beautiful…" my voice begins to rise. "She should've looked hideous to me, but no, she was still beautiful!"

I let out a frustrated sigh and run my fingers through my hair, feeling disgusted with my feelings.

"After everything she's done…I still…I still_ love _her," I quietly admit to myself.

"Dad…" I whisper. "Just what is it about us Mellark men falling for those Everdeen women?"

I turn my head towards the wall that has the paintings of the Games hanging on it. Many of them contain Katniss. There's one of her high up in a tree, one where she's cleaning my clothes in the stream, and one where she's sitting in the cave, among a few others.

"I don't know what to do, Dad," I murmur.

As soon as I say that, my painting of Katniss when she had [….] falls off the wall, and crashes to the ground. I jump, but then go over to the fallen painting and bend over to pick it up.

In doing so, I see a small piece of white paper taped to the back of the painting. Curious, I pull it off and examine it closely. A few words are scrawled on it in a handwriting that I know is my father's:

_Don't give up on her. _

Shocked at the discovery of this little piece of paper, I instantly close my hand into a fist around it.

When had my father written this and placed it behind this painting? It must've been during one of the few times he'd been able to come over and visit after Katniss and I came home from the Victory Tour.

But how could he have known? How could he have known back then that I'd be feeling this way…like I'm about to give up on Katniss ever loving me?

Perhaps because he'd given up on the woman he loved…he let her go as she became an Everdeen, leaving him to live a life of misery alongside a commanding woman.

I guess he doesn't-_didn't-_want me to land in that same position.

Because despite all she's done…all the pain she's caused me…I still can't help but care for her. I can't help but yearn for her to care about me in the same way. I can't help but wish to see her again and stand next to her. I can't help but want to feel her lips pressed against mine once again…

I can't imagine life without her.

That's probably why I chose to return to District 12. When I'm close to her, I feel at home. And when I'm not, I feel as if I have no place in this world.

Probably why I pulled that nightlock away from her so she couldn't kill herself. I didn't want to live in a world without her in it.

And now here's my father encouraging my pursuit of the girl on fire…to keep going and be there for her.

"Thanks, Dad," I murmur as I look upwards.

I then stuff the little piece of paper in right pocket of my pants. Then I pick up my paintbrush and finish painting the eyes of the enigma that is Katniss Everdeen.

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><p>The following evening, Greasy Sae pays me a visit.<p>

She invites me to come to Katniss's house for breakfast in the morning, telling me that ever since I saw Katniss the other day, Katniss's behavior has changed. Before I returned, she never left the house, never went hunting, and barely took care of herself. But after I saw her, she's gone outside and she went hunting. She even combed her hair and fixed up her appearance. Greasy Sae continues to explain that I must be part of the reason for this, and thinks it would do her some more good if I visited her more often.

Hearing this, I realize that this is all the confirmation I need in order to do what I have to do.

As soon as Greasy Sae leaves, I run to the kitchen to begin baking some bread.

Cheese buns, to be specific.

Katniss's favorite.

After rolling out the dough, I pause a moment. I pull out the crumpled piece of paper that I've been keeping with me at all times since I discovered it.

"I'm not giving up, Dad. I'm not giving up."


End file.
